


Sherlock: Pillows On Mattresses

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Series: Sherlock: Impact [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friendship, M/M, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade have been sleeping together a few weeks. Mycroft decides he's ready to try it the other way around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock: Pillows On Mattresses

**Author's Note:**

> Ownership: Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, these versions are owned by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I just get to play.
> 
> Also Note: This is a partner series to 'Sherlock: Colours'. If you want to read more about Sherlock/John, read that series.

_‘Gregory?’_

_‘Yeah?’_

_‘I...’_

_‘Mycroft, no need to be embarrassed.’_

_Mycroft swallowed and whispered, ‘I love you.’_

_Greg froze, staring at Mycroft’s back. He blinked when Mycroft turned to face him._

_‘You don’t need to say it but I do,’ he said and played with the blanket, eyeing Greg from beneath long lashes._

_Greg grinned and leaned down to kiss Mycroft softly, warmly, lovingly._

_‘Mycroft?’_

_‘Yes?’_

_‘I love you too.’_

_Mycroft looked at him properly. ‘Really?’_

_‘Yes,’ he chuckled and pulled Mycroft close. They hugged each other and Greg sighed._

_‘I love you,’ Mycroft repeated._

_‘And I love you.’_

_They held each other softly, enjoying each other’s presence as they drifted to sleep._

_‘Gregory?’ Mycroft murmured._

_‘Mm?’ Greg yawned and peeled his eyes open._

_‘That was fucking spectacular.’_

_Greg was reduced to a fit of giggles and Mycroft chuckled. Finally Greg controlled himself and they looked at each other softly._

_And smiled._

 

\--

 

Gregory Lestrade woke with a yawn and a stretch. His muscles ached in just the right places. Not too much, though, because Mycroft hadn’t lasted long. Memories of the previous night flooded his brain and Greg grinned. Of course Mycroft hadn’t lasted long his first time but Greg was still happy. The fact that he’d been having sex with _Mycroft Holmes_ his _boyfriend_ was enough to make the whole experience amazing.

Said boyfriend had his face pressed into Greg’s back. They must have switched places during the night and Greg shifted about so he could look at Mycroft. Always a light sleeper, Mycroft opened his eyes slowly and blushed when he saw Greg.

‘You do that a lot.’

‘Embarrass myself?’

Greg tutted and kissed Mycroft slowly. ‘Don’t be an idiot. You didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Mm hmm.’

‘I’m serious, Myc,’ Greg said. ‘Not embarrassing; good. I swear.’

Mycroft just pulled himself closer and nuzzled his face into Greg’s neck. Greg giggled as he nipped at a ticklish spot to the right of his Adam’s apple. He continued to run his lips, teeth and tongue along the spot and soon had Greg gasping.

‘You bastard,’ Greg groaned as he took huge gulps of air.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Fast learner, Gregory.’ He pushed his hips forward and his erection pressed against Greg, making him gasp. He continued until they were both hard and panting.

‘Again?’ Greg asked.

‘Mm,’ was Mycroft’s reply.

 _Time to turn the tables_ , Greg thought. He rolled over until he was straddling Mycroft’s hips and attacked his neck, searching for Mycroft’s spots. Mycroft moaned and pushed himself up, eyes closed as Greg sucked at his skin.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t leave any marks,’ Greg mumbled against him. He suddenly found himself on his back and Mycroft grinned coyly.

‘You really are a fast learner,’ Greg said as Mycroft kissed him hotly, passionately, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths. Mycroft reached for the dresser and grabbed the lube. He shifted himself down and popped the cap, feeling a lot more in control than the previous night. He slathered his cock, not wanting to waste time looking for the condoms.

He moved down again and Greg wrapped his legs around Mycroft’s waist. Mycroft paused and Greg looked up at him.

‘Don’t worry about preparing me, just fuck me,’ he said, practically begging.

Mycroft chuckled and pushed in, only a little, before pulling out again. Greg groaned and he did it again, teasing his boyfriend.

Greg grabbed himself and began tugging but Mycroft wasn’t having any of that. He took Greg’s hands and kissed them softly as he continued to tease.

‘Fuck you, Mycroft.’

‘Temper, temper,’ Mycroft tutted.

‘Please,’ Greg begged.

‘Please?’

‘Fuck me,’ Greg moaned and closed his eyes.

‘Very well,’ Mycroft grinned. He dropped Greg’s hands and pushed all the way in. Though he’d done this last night it was still all very new. He did feel more comfortable, though; more sure of himself. He knew he’d last longer.

He pulled back and grabbed Greg’s hips as he began thrusting softly, wanting to play this out as long as he could. Greg moaned and rubbed at his own stomach, his cock, his balls.

‘Mycroft,’ he whimpered as Mycroft continued to thrust, rocking back and forth slowly.

Mycroft’s cock brushed along his prostate and he pushed himself down, trying to pull Mycroft in deeper. But the younger man wanted this to last and purposely missed his prostate the next few thrusts.

‘God, I never knew you were such a tease,’ Greg gasped and smiled up at Mycroft.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘I want this to be good.’

‘It _is_ good,’ Greg groaned and bit his lip.

‘I want it to be better than the first time,’ Mycroft said. He moaned softly as Greg squeezed around him. ‘You’re doing that... on purpose,’ he groaned.

Greg grinned. ‘Dunno what you mean.’

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft warned as he did it again and pushed himself down, Mycroft sliding deeper inside.

‘Yes, honey?’

Mycroft moaned and leaned further over him, his hands gripping Greg tightly. ‘I want...’

‘What?’ Greg asked and rolled his hips. Mycroft groaned. ‘What do you want?’

‘Fuck,’ Mycroft gasped and grabbed Greg, pulling him down. Greg yelped as they collided. Suddenly everything was fast and hard and there was heat and panting and shouting and fuck!

Greg tugged at his cock as an orgasm pulled at him, making his muscles curl in his body.

‘Mycroft... Jesus,’ Greg groaned and reached for his boyfriend.

Mycroft was panting above him, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to fight off the orgasm that was about to rupture. Damn Gregory for making him lose control.

‘God... gonna... come,’ Greg groaned. He pushed his hips up as he did, climaxing all over himself and shouting. He moaned and pulled on himself more, come leaking down his hand.

The sight of his boyfriend coming first, and the tightness that suddenly gripped him, dragged Mycroft over the edge. He spilled into Greg and cursed as his body shuddered. The orgasm was better than the last, the best he’d ever had, and he felt his cock go limp as it leaked into Greg.

They both panted and stayed where they were, enjoying the heat and each other. Mycroft pulled out and stumbled back from the bed, tripping to fall on his arse. He groaned and laid on his back, not wanting to move.

A few minutes later he opened his eyes to see Greg laying on the edge of the bed, looking down at him.

‘You alright?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said, too tired to rub his bruised arse. ‘Are you?’

‘Fucking... fucked,’ Greg grinned. ‘Gonna have to change the sheets.’

‘Mm,’ Mycroft smiled. He wanted to get up and hug Greg, touch him, just hold him. But really, the floor was very comfortable.

‘Mycroft?’

‘Yes?’

‘ _That_ was fucking spectacular,’ he said and Mycroft smiled. ‘You’re a fast bloody learner.’

‘I aim to please,’ Mycroft smiled, remembering Greg saying those exact words to him after his first blow job.

Greg groaned and let his head drop. ‘Don’t wanna go to work. Never gonna walk again.’

Mycroft grinned. ‘Bit weak in the knees?’

‘Fucking weak everywhere.’

‘You have a charming way of saying things.’

‘You love it.’

‘I do.’

They looked at each other again and smiled.

 

-oOo-

 

As much as they would like to, the couple couldn’t stay where they were forever. Life, and work, was calling so finally Greg hauled himself from bed and dragged Mycroft up. They fell into the shower together and spent a good hour appreciating each other’s bodies. When Mycroft finally dressed for work he was feeling tired but satisfied His muscles hummed and ached but the delirious happiness coursing through his body was enough to wipe that away.

‘Damn it, I didn’t bring any clothes,’ Greg said from behind Mycroft, making him turn. Greg had his underwear and singlet on but that was it. All he had was his rumpled suit and shirt.

‘You have a spare suit at the office, yes?’

‘Mm, but the shirt’s dirty, spilled coffee on it last week,’ Greg said.

Mycroft tutted. ‘And I take it you left it stuffed in your bottom draw? Borrow one of my shirts,’ he said and stepped into his wardrobe. He plucked a blue silk shirt from the rack and turned to hand it to his boyfriend.

Greg smiled. ‘Not all of us have a hundred shirts to choose from, Mycroft.’

‘I don’t have a hundred,’ Mycroft said and Greg raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe forty or so.’

Greg chuckled and pulled Mycroft’s shirt on. It was a little tight but nothing he couldn’t handle for a day. ‘I’ll have to do laundry when I get home. I’m running out of clean things.’

Mycroft tutted again. ‘Really, Gregory. Can’t you do your washing like every normal person?’

Greg smiled and draped his arms over Mycroft as he did his tie up. ‘Nope.’

‘Would you like to borrow a tie?’

‘Don’t like ties.’

‘How did I ever end up with you?’ Mycroft asked as he turned to pull on his waistcoat.

Greg just smiled.

 

-oOo-

 

It was another two weeks before Greg heard from Mycroft again. He was sitting in A&E when his phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, groaning as his fingers ached. The screen was cracked and there were two buttons missing.

‘Lestrade.’

‘ _What happened_?’ Mycroft practically shouted into the phone and Greg winced.

‘Myc?’

‘ _Gregory, what happened_?’

‘Nothing much,’ Greg said and tried to smile at the nurse who was finally coming over. ‘Just got attacked.’

‘ _Just... got... attacked._ ’ Mycroft sounded close to full blown hysteria.

‘Mycroft, calm down, I’m– owe!’ He glared at the nurse who had dabbed at the cut on his forehead. ‘Sherlock went and decided to break into a warehouse down by the Thames for a case. He’s the one you should be calling; he got thrown over the railing. Took us thirty minutes to fish him and Dr Watson out because _of course_ John jumped in after the idiot.’

 _‘Sherlock is always injured,_ ’ Mycroft tutted. ‘ _A concussion is nothing to worry about_. _How are_ you?’

‘Dunno,’ Greg said honestly. ‘I’ve got a scrape across my forehead and my hand hurts but other than that I’m fine.’

‘Two fractured fingers,’ the nurse patching him up said. ‘You’ll be fine. The cut’s nothing to worry about. We’ll give you some shots to make sure you don’t catch anything.’

‘Fractured fingers, cut,’ Greg said over the phone. Mycroft growled into it. ‘Seriously, Myc, I’m fine. I’m a cop; I get hurt all the time.’

‘ _That doesn’t mean I have to like it._ ’

Greg smiled. ‘Are you worried about me?’

‘ _Of course I am,_ ’ Mycroft said. ‘ _That this happened while I was out of the country is cause for concern._ ’

‘Mycroft, relax,’ Greg said. ‘You’ll be back tonight and we’re having dinner. Don’t worry, they don’t want me back in ’til lunch time tomorrow so I won’t cancel.’

Mycroft sighed. ‘ _I just worry about you, constantly._ ’

Greg smiled. ‘I know. I worry about you too,’ he said. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, wanna go easy there?’ he shouted at the nurse as she taped his fingers together.

She smirked at him. ‘Aren’t copper’s supposed to be tough?’

‘We’re not bloody Supermen,’ Greg complained.

She just rolled her eyes, too used to dealing with injured police officers to take his words seriously.

‘Myc, I’ll be out of here soon, ’kay?’ Greg said. ‘I’ll meet you at mine.’

‘ _Very well_ ,’ Mycroft said. ‘ _I love you._ ’

‘Love you too,’ Greg said, ‘we’re having takeaway.’

‘ _Gregory, I am on a diet._ ’

Greg tutted. ‘No diet, not tonight. Please, for me? I’m injured.’

He pouted into the phone and the nurse snorted. Finally Mycroft sighed.

‘ _Very well, Gregory. I will eat fatty food that will clog both our arteries for you._ ’

‘Thank you.’

‘ _I have to go._ ’

‘See you tonight.’ He slipped his phone into his pocket and glared at the nurse.

She chuckled.

 

-oOo-

 

Greg dropped his keys on the coffee table and sat, groaning. His head throbbed slightly and he wondered if he had any Ibuprofen left. Standing again, he left the takeaway on the couch and removed his coat and jacket. He was going through the cupboards when there was a knock on his door.

Forgetting about the drugs, Greg grinned and quickly went to open the door. Mycroft Holmes beamed at him and Greg checked his watch before throwing his arms around his boyfriend and hauling him in for a kiss.

‘Right on time,’ Greg grinned against him.

Mycroft chuckled and kissed him back. ‘I’m always on time, Gregory.’

He kicked the door closed and handed Greg the six pack of beer he’d picked up before coming over.

‘You treat me so fine,’ Greg smiled and led Mycroft to the couch. He helped Mycroft from his coat, jacket, tie and waistcoat, pulling his shirt from his trousers to run his hands along the warm skin underneath.

‘Missed me, did you?’ Mycroft asked as he pulled the takeaway containers from the bag.

‘Have you seen yourself naked?’ Greg asked and ducked a hand into his trousers. He winced slightly as his cracked fingers pressed together.

‘Gregory, there’s time for that later,’ Mycroft said and removed his hands. He kissed them softly and inspected the damaged ones.

‘At least I can still write,’ Greg said and wriggled his left hand, smiling. Mycroft scowled. ‘Come on, Mycroft. I’ve been hurt worse before.’

‘I don’t like to think about it,’ Mycroft admitted.

‘I’ve been shot three times,’ Greg said and pointed at his stomach, thigh and foot.

‘Who shot you in the foot?’

Greg smiled. ‘It was a ricochet, not so bad. Still hurt like a bitch.’ Mycroft sighed and leaned back to look at him. ‘What?’

‘Please be careful, Gregory. I don’t like that you’re always in danger.’

‘I’m a cop, Myc.’

‘I know that and I truly am proud of you,’ Mycroft said. ‘I know that you love your job but don’t put yourself in danger if you don’t have to.’

‘I have to protect my people, Mycroft,’ Greg said, ‘Sherlock and John too.’

Mycroft sighed again. ‘I really wish my brother conducting himself better. I was rather hoping Dr Watson would put a stop to his dangerous ways. It seems, however, that he enjoys it nearly as much as Sherlock.’

‘Yeah, but he’s got a gun,’ Greg smiled. ‘Sherlock’s in good hands, Myc, and so am I. I know how to take care of myself and my people back me up. I’m a big boy, alright?’

Mycroft just stared at him before, finally, nodding.

‘And you take care of yourself too,’ Greg said, flipping open one of the Chinese boxes. ‘Don’t give me any of your _boring paperwork and meetings_ crap. You’re in as much danger as I am.’

Mycroft stared at him and swallowed, passing over the wooden chopsticks.

‘Myc?’ The younger man looked at him. ‘ _Are_ you in as much danger as me?’ Mycroft bit his lip. ‘Mycroft!’

‘There is a certain amount of... danger in my line of work. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.’

Greg raised his eyebrows, sticking the chopsticks in his Satay prawns. ‘Listen you!’ he said and pointed a finger at Mycroft. ‘You bloody well take care of yourself, alright? I know you Holmeses; you think you’re fricking immune to everything. If you want me to take care of myself than you do too, got it?’

Mycroft huffed but a smile played at his lips. ‘Very well, Gregory.’

Greg smiled. ‘Right,’ he said and passed Mycroft his food. ‘Now eat.’

Mycroft looked down at it and wrinkled his nose. ‘This is very fattening.’

‘Eat or I’ll slap you.’

He chuckled. ‘Really?’

‘Yup.’

‘Maybe I like that,’ Mycroft said and opened his container. Greg burned red and Mycroft grinned.

‘Damn you,’ Greg mumbled and Mycroft chuckled.

 

-oOo-

 

Mycroft had been gone a week and a half so of course it led to sex. Greg pushed back on his hands and knees, moaning as Mycroft fucked him. The sex was just getting better and better. Mycroft was a master at teasing Greg, pushing him all the way to an edge of an orgasm before pulling him back.

But that night it was all about being close and fucking each other until they collapsed. Greg gripped the sheets and shouted as Mycroft jerked him off and pushed into him.

‘M-Mycroft,’ he groaned and pushed himself back again. ‘Please, harder.’

Mycroft complied, thinking he couldn’t get any deeper into his boyfriend. Greg’s heat and tightness was pulling an orgasm for him and in a few more thrusts he was coming. He groaned and bent his head as he slid in and out, pulling at Greg’s cock.

Greg came too and he wobbled on his hands and knees, shaking as the orgasm overtook him. Mycroft slipped out and got up on shaky legs. He stumbled to Greg’s bathroom and grabbed a towel, cleaning himself up before going back to Greg.

The DI was panting as he stripped the sheets from his bed. ‘Made me mess them up,’ he smiled at Mycroft.

Mycroft grinned and cleaned him up as Greg changed the sheets. They fell back onto the bed utterly exhausted, dragging the duvet to cover them.

Mycroft curled himself around Greg and rested his head on the DI’s arm. Greg stroked his hair and closed his eyes, smiling.

‘I love you, Mycroft,’ he murmured a few minutes later.

Mycroft yawned. ‘Love you too.’

 

-oOo-

 

Greg cursed as he was pulled from sleep. Blinking, he sat to look at his alarm clock. 4:43am. He swore again and said, ‘Myc?’

Mycroft wasn’t in bed and a minute after Greg called he appeared at the doorway, straightening his tie. ‘Gregory, I have to go. There’s been a crisis in America and I’m flying out immediately.’

Greg moaned and pulled himself up as Mycroft looked for his shoes. ‘But you just got back.’

‘I know, I’m sorry,’ Mycroft said as he fell to sit on the bed. He tied the laces up on his right shoe and Greg sighed. He bent down and pushed Mycroft’s other shoe on, tying the laces for him. ‘Thank you.’

‘No worries,’ he yawned.

‘I really am sorry.’

‘S’alright,’ Greg said. ‘I get it.’

Mycroft pulled him up and kissed him passionately before hunting around for his waistcoat and jacket. He pulled it on and Greg did the buttons up as he slipped into his jacket.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know, Myc. It’s alright; you don’t have to keep apologising. Do you have time for breakfast?’

‘No, A is bringing me coffee.’ His BlackBerry rang and he pulled it from his pocket as he went into the living room. ‘Holmes. Yes, I’m ready. Thank you.’

He turned as he grabbed his coat. ‘I have to go.’

‘When will you be back?’ Greg asked.

‘I don’t know, Gregory.’ He took his umbrella and stopped, raising a hand to cup Greg’s cheek. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘I know,’ Greg smiled and kissed him softly, savouring the brief moment they had. Mycroft pulled away and sighed. ‘Go to work.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, Myc.’

Mycroft pulled the door open and said, ‘I’ll call when I can.’ He kissed Greg again before disappearing.

 

-oOo-

 

He was gone for one week and counting. Greg cursed as he puffed on a cigarette. He’d actually been going well and had been fine with just the patches. It didn’t help that Sherlock had started smoking again and would purposely blow smoke in Greg’s face when they were together.

Sally Donovan joined him and said, ‘Quitting going good?’

‘How’s it look?’ he snapped.

‘Jeez, calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist,’ she said and lit her smoke.

‘Sorry, I’m sorry.’

‘I thought smoking was supposed to calm you down.’ Greg shrugged. ‘What’s wrong, Lestrade?’

He rubbed his eyes and said, ‘My boyfriend works a lot, more than me. He’s been gone a while.’

‘Ah, Mycroft Holmes,’ Sally said and wrinkled her nose at the last name.

‘Sally,’ he sighed.

‘I’m sorry, but seriously, a Holmes?’

‘He’s not like Sherlock,’ Greg said. ‘He’s nice and funny and sweet, really. I love him.’

Sally snorted. ‘Holmeses aren’t capable of love.’

Greg rolled his eyes. ‘Sally, they are. Mycroft loves me and Sherlock loves John.’

‘The Freak is a psychopath.’

‘No he’s not.’

She just shook her head.

‘Sally, please. I love Mycroft and I care about Sherlock too. When you get to know him he’s a decent bloke. Yeah, he’s weird, but that’s what makes him so... I dunno, good. He’s really fine, just weird.’

But it was a lost cause and Greg knew it. Sally would never like Sherlock and probably Mycroft either. She’d only tolerate the two because she actually liked Lestrade.

‘Fine, whatever,’ Greg sighed and stubbed out his smoke. He went back into the building without another word.

 

-oOo-

 

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were waiting. Greg fell into his seat. ‘How can I help you gentlemen?’

‘I need a case, Lestrade,’ Sherlock said and twisted his scarf about. ‘I’m bored.’

‘Take John home,’ Greg smiled.

Sherlock scowled. ‘Lestrade, I’m sure you have a mountain of unsolved cases. Scotland Yard can hardly solve them all.’

‘We manage just fine, thanks,’ Greg said.

‘I’m _bored_ ,’ Sherlock whined.

‘And I told you to take John home,’ Greg grinned. ‘Surely you two can think of something to do.’

Sherlock frowned at him. ‘Sleeping with my brother has done little to improve your humour, Lestrade.’ Greg just shrugged. ‘Ah, so you two _are_ sleeping together.’

‘That’s none of your business, Sherlock,’ Greg frowned.

Sherlock grinned. ‘Mycroft is fat, Lestrade, surely you would suffocate.’

Greg glared at him. He feared that Mycroft’s dieting was a serious issue and hadn’t yet broached the subject with the older Holmes. How did you ask a forty-four year-old man if he was anorexic of bulimic? Mycroft would deny it, of course, and just push Greg away. They were going so well, Greg didn’t want to ruin what they had.

‘He is _not_ fat!’ he snapped.

Sherlock smirked, glad to have hit a button. Greg knew he got off on this.

‘At least he has _something_ , Sherlock,’ Greg said, referring to the fact that Mycroft, at least, wasn’t a skinny bloody stick... well at least he wasn’t as thin as Sherlock. ‘I feel sorry for John; you’re like a bony insect.’

John said something from the doorway but neither Greg nor Sherlock heard him.

‘My brother is fat.’

‘No he isn’t.’

‘Is.’

‘Sherlock, for fuck’s sake,’ Greg cursed and Sherlock paused. He looked Greg up and down.

‘You’ve noticed it too?’

His tone was softer, not teasing this time, and Greg looked him over. ‘Noticed what?’

‘The silly diets he puts himself on,’ Sherlock said.

‘Yeah.’

Sherlock sighed and he actually looked worried. ‘My brother was big when he was younger. He shed that weight in his mid twenties and since then... well, he’s always on a diet.’

‘But he doesn’t need to be, Sherlock.’

‘I know that,’ Sherlock frowned.

‘Then why do you always tease him?’

‘It’s my way of showing concern,’ Sherlock huffed.

Greg snorted. ‘You’re a weirdo.’

‘Am not.’

Greg just rolled his eyes.

‘Give it more time, Lestrade,’ Sherlock said and fiddled with his scarf. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to get through to my brother. He might actually listen to you.’

And then he was gone, leaving Greg gaping.

 

-oOo-

 

Greg cursed as he spilled coffee across his desk. He sighed and grabbed some tissues, trying to clean it up. The conversation with Sherlock had jut caused him to worry more about his skinny boyfriend.

When his desk was clean enough, Greg got up and headed for the toilets, liquid dripping from his hands. He pushed the door open with his elbows and went straight to the sink. He was squirting soap onto his hands when he heard it; the grunting, the moaning, the clothes swishing about.

Greg paused and turned slowly to look at the cubicle behind him. It was the only one with a closed door and Greg bent to look under.

 _Jesus Fucking Christ_. He’d recognise those expensive trousers and shoes anywhere. And the other pair...

Greg snapped back up and turned the tap on, washing his hands as quickly as he could. If he hurried he could get out of there before Sherlock and John–

Sherlock and John stepped from the cubicle and froze. Greg turned slowly and smirked at the flushed looks on their faces. Sherlock was straightening his clothes and John was, as usual, turning bright red.

‘Hello there,’ Greg said and figured he’d make a joke of the very awkward situation. ‘I wasn’t aware the Yard had installed double toilets.’

Sherlock of course wasn’t fazed at all and smiled as John turned brighter red. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t fondled my brother in his office.’

Greg grimaced. ‘Please don’t say fondle, Sherlock, it’s disturbing.’ He hadn’t actually _fondled_ Mycroft in the politician’s office. He _had_ fondled him in _his_ office though and he smiled at the memory.

Sherlock stiffened, probably figuring out what Greg was thinking about. He stormed from the bathroom and Greg smiled as he turned to look at John.

‘The bathroom, really?’

It couldn’t have been possible for a human being to turn that red and Greg was worried John would keel over from all the blood rushing to his face. He made a hasty retreat and Greg couldn’t help but laugh. He made a note to never, ever use that toilet again.

Although he and Mycroft could probably fit in one of the other ones...

 

-oOo-

 

He was having a smoke when his phone beeped. Greg grinned, getting excited, but sighed when he saw it was a text from John Watson. Not that he didn’t like the doctor but Mycroft had been gone eight days.

 

_Hey, do you think we could have a pint tonight? There’s something I really want to talk to you about._

_John_

Greg brought both hands to his phone and sucked on the cigarette between his lips.

 

_Important?_

_Greg L_

 

The reply was short and came a few seconds later.

 

_Very._

_John_

Greg sighed. Well, if he wasn’t going to see Mycroft...

 

_Yeah, meet me at Scotland Yard. If nothing comes up I finish at 6._

_Greg L_

_Thanks._

_John_

 

Greg stuffed his phone back into his pocket and dropped to sit with his back against the wall of the building. He had another cigarette after finishing his first.  He could actually go a pint but just wished Mycroft was back. He hated that they rarely got to see each other.

Oh well. If anything it made the time they spent together even more important.

 

-oOo-

 

It had just ticked over to 5:23pm when there was a knock on Greg’s office door. He yawned and, thinking it was John Watson, didn’t look up as he said, ‘Come in.’

The person entered and closed the door. It took Greg a second to realise it wasn’t John. The person was tapping against the floor with something and their cologne was... it made Greg’s mouth water.

He looked up quickly and a grin broke out on his face. Mycroft smiled and Greg leapt from his chair, crossing the room quickly to hug Mycroft. He kissed him passionately and Mycroft moaned into his mouth.

‘I... missed... you...’ Greg said in-between kisses. He stuck his tongue into Mycroft’s mouth, not giving him a chance to answer.

He dragged Mycroft across the small office and pushed him against the desk. Mycroft slipped back to sit on it, dropping his umbrella and pulling Greg’s jacket off. Soon Mycroft’s own coat, jacket and waistcoat were on the floor with Greg pulling at his buttons. The shirt slipped free and Greg sucked on his neck, hands roaming all over the skinny torso.

‘God, I missed this so much,’ Mycroft moaned and undid all of Greg’s buttons.

‘Just this?’ Greg asked, running his tongue along Mycroft’s neck. ‘Not me?’

‘Hmm,’ Mycroft said as he played with Greg’s nipples. ‘Just a little bit, I guess.’

Greg chuckled and pressed himself against Mycroft, kissing him hotly. He reached down and pushed his hand into Mycroft’s crotch. The politician trembled at the contact and Greg pulled open his belt.

There was a knock on the door and it swished open. ‘Hey, Greg, I thought I’d swing by early and– oh _god_!’ John Watson broke off mid sentence and his eyes went wide.

Greg pulled back from Mycroft, who slid off the desk quickly. He bent to pick up his clothes as Greg buttoned himself up. John was staring at Mycroft, his eyes following the older man as he pulled on his shirt, waistcoat and jacket.

Greg stood in front of him and said, ‘Er, John, hi.’ He smoothed down his shirt as Mycroft slipped into his clothes.

 ‘Yeah, um, that’s... fine,’ John said, turning pink. ‘I just wanted to see if you... erm... a pint. But you’re busy and so–’

‘Not to worry, Dr Watson,’ Mycroft said smoothly, back to his usual uptight self.  His clothes were once more immaculate and he pulled on his coat. ‘I have an important meeting to get to; I was just hoping to have a few minutes alone with my boyfriend. However, seeing how that’s not going to happen, I’ll take my leave.’

He turned to Greg and pulled him in for a hard kiss. Greg gasped into his mouth and a hand found Mycroft’s hip. But then Mycroft was pulling away and Greg whined.

Mycroft smiled and said, ‘I’ll see you tonight, love.’ He very badly didn’t want to go and Greg could see it in his eyes. But no doubt Mycroft had some important meeting to go to and had only stopped by to see Greg because he’d missed him.

Mycroft pecked Greg quickly on the lips before leaving, giving the still blushing John Watson a smile before stepping from the office. He shut the door behind him and swore loudly, drawing the looks of a few people. He smiled weakly and headed for the elevators.

Inside he groaned and leaned against the back wall. He’d been looking forward to seeing Gregory. And though he hadn’t planned sex in the DI’s office, the feeling of Greg removing his clothes in such a public place had been very arousing. And then stupid John Watson had ruined it all.

Mycroft considered thrashing the doctor or maybe kidnapping him again as punishment. He mused about that as the elevator doors slid open.

 

-oOo-

 

‘So, what’s life thrown at you?’ Greg asked once he and John had sat down at their favourite pub. The two had taken to spending a night or two a week together, complaining about life and the Holmes brothers.

‘Sherlock’s decided that the shower is a good place to store cow organs.’

‘Ah, yeah, well storing them anywhere else is just plain crazy,’ Greg smirked into his beer. He was glad to know that for all of Mycroft’s strangeness, he was the normal Holmes.

‘I take it yours doesn’t store body parts in the bathroom?’ John asked

Greg shrugged. ‘I dunno, we don’t live together. I’ve been to his place but we spent a lot of time... elsewhere.’

John chuckled. ‘I just can’t imagine Mycroft doing anything along those lines... though after today.’ He took a large gulp of beer. ‘I swear, I’m never going to get that image out of my head.’

‘Hey, that’s my boyfriend,’ Greg pointed at him as memories of Mycroft’s naked, sweaty form entered his head.

‘So you two are calling each other boyfriends now?’

‘We’ve been dating a few months,’ Greg said. ‘Mycroft said he wanted a serious relationship after our second date. He said this wasn’t just fooling around. I wanted something more too and here we are.’

He thought about it fondly as he sipped his drink. He couldn’t believe he’d got so lucky to find someone he was so compatible with. True, they were very different people, but they just worked. They both came from very different circles but there were similarities there; they had similar taste in music (much to Greg’s amazement because he hadn’t picked Mycroft Holmes as a lover of punk or rock), they both read a lot and enjoyed nights on the couch watching crap TV. They just... they worked so very, very well.

‘So you two are good?’

‘Yeah, very good. We’ve fought a bit, mostly about his bloody inability to eat properly. I swear, he’s as thin as a rake but insists he needs to be on a diet. If Sherlock ever calls him fat in front of me again I’ll punch him in the face.’

‘Hey, that’s my boyfriend,’ John said and the two laughed.

‘So, have you and Sherlock...’ Greg trailed off and looked pointedly at him. He knew the answer, had caught Sherlock and John at it, but wanted to hear the doctor say it himself.

‘Yes, we have,’ John said and Greg was amazed when he didn’t blush. It seemed to be the doctor’s natural colour lately.

‘Good?’ Greg asked before holding up a finger to get another round. He returned a few minutes later and slid John another beer.

‘Yeah, very good,’ John said. ‘I can’t believe I never tried it before, it’s so different to having sex with a woman.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t know,’ Greg smiled.

‘You’ve never had sex with a woman?’

‘Nope.’

‘Why?’

‘Erm, I’m gay,’ Greg said. Wasn’t that obvious?

John tutted. ‘I know _that_. But most guys try it with a woman first before... you know...’

‘I never did,’ Greg said honestly and remembered his early years. ‘I dated women before I came out, before I actually realised I was absolutely gay, but I never slept with any. Once I got close but I freaked out when she got naked and took off. Never heard from her again, of course.’

Jamie her name had been. Greg had always liked her, not in a sexual way, and it had been Jamie who’d asked him out. Not wanting to seem... well, _gay_ , Greg had said yes. Their dates had been okay, except the kissing parts, and she’d finally managed to pull him into her home. When her clothes had disappeared Greg had nearly had a panic attack.

It wasn’t as though women’s bodies disgusted him or anything but the thought of having _sex_ with a woman had and still did. He’d just completely freaked out and took off. Jamie had never forgiven him and her elder brother had tried to smack Greg around. Luckily he’d always been a good fighter.

After that Greg had realised he was definitely one hundred percent gay.

John chuckled and finished the last of his beer before sipping the new one Greg had passed him. ‘Well, it’s different. Not that sex with a woman isn’t fun, but Sherlock is... Sherlock.’ He smiled.

Greg laughed. ‘I just can’t imagine it. He’s so skinny,’ he said, thinking about those tight fitting suits Sherlock wore. ‘What’s there to grab?’ he asked honestly.

‘Plenty,’ John said hotly, quickly rising to Sherlock’s defence, ‘like his hair.’

Greg knew it was a stab at Mycroft’s thinning hair and frowned at him. ‘I’ll bet you anything Mycroft’s more romantic than Sherlock.’

Not that Mycroft was overly romantic. But working fifty-two hours and coming home to a home-cooked meal with candles, a single sunflower and beer was very romantic in Greg’s eyes. Followed by very rough sex and sleep... it was heaven.

John’s smile fell at that and Greg realised he was probably right.

‘Well, mine doesn’t always dress like a bloody politician,’ John said, trying to make up for the romantic bit.

‘Mine _is_ a politician,’ Greg pointed out, ‘and he has a proper job.’

‘Oh yeah?’ John asked and Greg nodded. ‘And what, exactly, _is_ his job?’

Greg had no answer for that. He had absolutely no idea what Mycroft’s actual position was. All he’d heard was ‘a minor position in the British Government’. Greg had taken to thinking that Mycroft was a spook, or the guy who controlled spooks, or the guy who controlled the guys who controlled spooks.

‘At least Sherlock has a job title,’ John said, smirking.

‘He made up his job title,’ Greg said hotly.

‘Still has one.’

‘Well, Mycroft has one too.’

‘And that would be...?’ John prompted.

Greg grinned coyly. ‘Minister Of Sex.’

John choked on his beer and Greg laughed as he patted his back. They chatted about a few mundane things like football, the army, kids these days, and why the Holmes brothers seemed to hate each other. Finally John got around to asking for Greg’s advice... again.

‘Erm, so, you and Mycroft...’

Greg knew where he was going and said, ‘Yeah, I thought we’d established that when you rudely interrupted us earlier.’ He was on his seventh beer, John too, and Greg was feeling a bit tipsy. He knew he could handle ten before getting absolutely smashed. He figured John could handle more, being younger. Although he _was_ shorter...

John blushed slightly before continuing. ‘Has he... had he ever...?’

Greg had always been good at reading people, he had to be as a cop. Though he’d never be in league with the Holmeses, he could figure out what John was asking.

‘Had he ever had sex with a man before me?’

John nodded.

‘No. Actually, he’d never had sex with anyone,’ he said, revealing more than he would if he was sober. John’s eyebrows raised and Greg suddenly realised he shouldn’t have said that. The amount of shit he and Mycroft had had to go through after that revelation was painful and embarrassing. He didn’t want Mycroft to know he’d told John.

‘Don’t tell him I told you,’ Greg said hurriedly, hoping John’s usual honourable personality would kick in. ‘But yeah, he’d never had sex before. We only just started two weeks ago; it took a lot of coaching but after the first time he learned quickly.’ He smiled broadly at that and leaned back in his seat.

‘So you haven’t...’

‘Fucked him? No,’ Greg said, ‘but believe me, he’s fucked–’

‘I get it, Gregory,’ John said quickly and Greg chuckled. He played with his glass as they fell into silence.

But Greg couldn’t help himself and had to say, ‘Mycroft calls me Gregory– no, John, I’m sorry!’ John had stood up to leave and Greg held out his hands. ‘Really, sorry. Sit down, mate.’

John smiled as he sat. ‘Stop, please stop.’

‘Sorry,’ Greg laughed. ‘I can’t help it. Who else can I talk to about dating a Holmes? People at the Yard wouldn’t understand, him being Sherlock’s brother and all.’

‘Mm, at least they wouldn’t call him “The Freak”,’ John said.

‘I’m sorry she calls him that,’ Greg said, ‘honestly.’

John smiled. ‘Doesn’t matter. Anyway, Sherlock and I have been... you know, about two or three months now, and I think I’m ready to... well, you know.’

‘You never finish your sentences, Johnny,’ Greg complained as he went to get more beer. He returned and slopped liquid over the table as he dropped them. ‘Huh. Maybe I should make this my last.’

John giggled stupidly. ‘You think?’

‘You’ve had just as much as me,’ Greg pointed out, ‘and you’re smaller, so it’ll affect you more.’ He drank deeply, beer running down his chin. He wiped it away and grinned.

‘Is that a joke about my height?’ John asked, slurping at his own drink.

Greg leaned forward and looked at John with slightly hazy eyes. ‘Yup.’

‘You’re older than me,’ John pointed out.

‘Which just makes me a better lover,’ Greg said and gulped another quarter of his drink down.

John laughed and Greg grinned at him.

‘So,’ Greg said, swallowing more beer. ‘You’re ready to let Sherlock...’

‘Yeah, I think. Any advice?’

‘Well, just take it slowly,’ Greg said, thinking about how he’d coach Mycroft through it when the elder Holmes was ready. ‘Sherlock will help. He’s a psychopath but I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.’

‘Sociopath,’ John corrected and Greg tutted. It was a lie and they both knew it. Sherlock might have seemed cold and distant but he did actually care about people.

‘Yeah, yeah, just plenty of lube and plenty of condoms. Take it slow.’ Once again his thoughts drifted to Mycroft. Damn it, he really needed sex. One whole week!

‘Er, we never really... use... condoms,’ John said and Greg looked at him, eyebrows rising.

‘Seriously?’ he asked and the doctor nodded. ‘Um, you realise he was a junkie, right?’ Greg said and bit his lip. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but junkie’s catch all sorts of things from sharing needles. And when I met Sherlock he was definitely sharing.’

‘We both got tested,’ John said, ‘after the first time. I’m still a doctor, Greg; I might be dating a Holmes but I’m not a complete idiot.’

Greg raised his hands. ‘Right, just checking.’

‘Do you and Mycroft...?’

‘Sometimes,’ Greg said and grinned, thinking about the second time. Neither had cared enough to grab a condom. ‘But you know how it is.’

‘Oh, yes,’ John said and they shared a laugh. ‘Condoms and lube?’

‘Condoms and lube,’ Greg repeated. ‘And just talk to him, John. Tell him what you want and let him show you what he can do. It’ll be fine.’

‘I hope so,’ John said and took a gulp of his drink.

 

-oOo-

 

Mycroft yawned and slipped into his car. He glanced at his BlackBerry; 12:32am. Perfect, Gregory was bound to be drunk if he’d gone to the pub with John Watson. He told his driver to go to the bar Greg and John frequented and yawned again, closing his eyes for a little bit.

When he was a few minutes away he dialled Gregory.

‘ _Yes, sweetie?_ ’

Mycroft chuckled; sweetie? Gregory really was drunk. ‘Well hello there, honey. How much have you had to drink?’

‘ _No, I’m not drunk._ ’

‘Oh really?’

‘ _Just a little tipsy, Myc._ ’

He heard John snort in the background and smiled. ‘Are you at the pub?’

‘ _Yah ha, with John, do you want to say hello_?’

‘Er, no, Gregory. That’s not necessary.’

‘ _Oh,_ ’ Gregory said, ‘ _he’s shaking his head, I don’t that think he likes you._ ’ Mycroft chuckled as Greg continued, ‘ _That’s not nice, Johnathan._ ’

‘His name isn’t short for Johnathan,’ Mycroft said and heard John say the same words.

‘ _Really?_ ’ Greg said and Mycroft sighed. He was very drunk, then. ‘ _Huh, how boring._ ’

Mycroft tutted. ‘I’m sorry, Gregory, am I boring you?’

‘ _What? No, not you, Mycroft. I was just saying that John’s a boring name._ ’

‘ _Greg’s a boring name too,_ ’ Mycroft heard John say and he smiled.

‘ _Owe, Mycroft, he kicked me!_ ’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Did you deserve it?’

‘ _No, I didn’t deserve it..._ ’

‘Gregory.’

‘ _Okay, maybe I did. Anyway, where are you_?’

Mycroft smiled. He could hear the need in Gregory’s voice as the car pulled to a stop in front of the pub. ‘Outside, love.’

‘ _Outside, excellent. Coming now and I’m bringing John._ ’

He hung up and Mycroft smiled, sliding to the far end of the seat. He had never seen Greg completely drunk but the two had gotten tipsy before on wine together. Something thumped into the car and there was laughter. Mycroft smiled and leaned over to pop the door open, knowing it would take Greg ten minutes just to find the handle.

Greg entered first and went straight for Mycroft’s lips. He pulled himself onto his lap and kissed him sloppily. Mycroft heard a snort from John Watson and tutted. ‘Gregory, please,’ he said and slid his boyfriend from his lap. Greg fell against the door but kept his legs across Mycroft.

‘Yeah, Gregory,’ John giggled.

Oh, so he was drunk too. Mycroft rolled his eyes as Greg said, ‘Shut it, Johnathan.’

‘It’s just John,’ John sighed as the car pulled into traffic. Mycroft’s driver would know to head straight for Baker Street. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘It’s short, like you,’ Greg laughed from Mycroft’s left.

‘Don’t make me hit you–’ John began but the DI cut him off.

‘ _Again_.’

Mycroft’s had snapped to look at the doctor. ‘You hit him?’ He nearly smiled when John moved away from him, almost curling in on himself under Mycroft’s gaze.

‘He... hit me first!’ he tried.

‘You threatened me!’ Greg interjected and Mycroft sighed.

‘You’re a cop and you started it!’

‘Well, you have an illegal firearm.’

‘You’ve been smoking again!’ John said and smirked when Greg frowned.

Greg and Mycroft had both been trying to quit; it was a seriously unhealthy habit. But they slipped every now and then.

‘N-no I didn’t!’ Greg stuttered.

John smiled. ‘Yeah you did.’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘You two are lovely when inebriated,’ he said and Greg looked at him. ‘Gregory, I know you’ve been smoking.’ He leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend quickly.

‘You have too!’ Greg shouted, tasting tobacco on Mycroft’s tongue.

‘Owe!’ John moaned.

‘My ears, Gregory,’ Mycroft sighed.

Greg grinned. ‘Sorry, sorry.’

The car stopped and Mycroft turned to John. ‘This is your stop, Dr Watson. Please have a lovely evening,’ he said as Greg shifted about to sit beside him. He pushed his hands into Mycroft’s lap and the politician squirmed as a hand grazed over his crotch.

‘Yeah, you too,’ John said and his eyes raked over Mycroft. He smiled and Mycroft blushed. ‘Call me John, please.’

He just smiled as Greg called out, ‘Have a lovely evening, Johnathan!’

John slammed the car door, much harder than was necessary. As soon as it was shut Greg pulled himself back onto Mycroft’s lap.

‘God I missed you,’ he moaned and pushed himself harder into his boyfriend. The car took off and they rocked against each other, Mycroft groaning at the friction.

‘I missed you too,’ he said.

‘Why’d you leave me with Johnny?’

He chuckled. ‘I had a meeting, Gregory. I’m here now, isn’t that enough?’

‘Can we go to your place?’

‘That was the plan,’ Mycroft said. He could taste and smell the beer on Greg. ‘Perhaps we should wait, though. You’re going to have a hangover tomorrow.’

‘No,’ Greg whined. ‘You’ve been gone a week.’

‘You’re drunk, Greg,’ Mycroft said.

Suddenly the DI broke into a fit of giggles.

‘Care to share?’ Mycroft asked with a small smile.

Greg rubbed at his eyes. ‘You called me Greg.’

‘And?’

‘You always call me Gregory.’

‘And?’

Greg smiled and leaned against Mycroft, who wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and sighed, happy to finally be with him again.

‘I love you, Gregory.’

‘Love you,’ Greg said into his neck.

 

-oOo-

 

Greg only managed to keep himself upright by wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s shoulders. Mycroft dragged him into the flat and went into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine. Greg hummed as he poured himself a glass and took a huge gulp.

‘Tired?’ the DI asked. Mycroft always drank quickly when he was tired.

‘Exhausted,’ Mycroft said.

‘How long since you slept?’ Greg asked. Mycroft hesitated and Greg groaned into his neck. ‘Mycroft...’

‘Three days,’ he finally admitted and Greg tutted. Mycroft turned, setting down his glass of wine. ‘Hello,’ he smiled and kissed him deeply.

Greg moaned into him. ‘Changing the subject,’ he muttered.

‘And I think I’m doing it rather well,’ Mycroft grinned. Suddenly Greg was dragging him to the bedroom. ‘Gregory, you’re drunk.’

‘Drunk sex!’ Greg shouted and pushed Mycroft onto the bed. He crawled on beside him and wrapped himself firmly around the taller man. ‘Drunk sex, drunk sex, drunk sex,’ he sang and nibbled at Mycroft’s ear.

‘Gregory,’ he moaned, ‘stop that.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘We’ve had sex before.’

Mycroft tutted. ‘I know that but you’re going to have a hangover in the morning. Do you want to add a sore arse to that?’

Greg giggled. ‘You sure think highly of yourself.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘ _Pl-ease_ ,’ Greg said and dragged out the word. ‘I’m horny.’

‘Really, I never would have guessed.’

‘Fuck me, Mycroft.’

Mycroft paused and looked Greg over. He was smiling. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes!’ Greg said. ‘Please?’ He licked at Mycroft’s neck and felt him shiver. Yes, Greg was winning.

Finally he snapped and Mycroft pulled himself onto Greg. He bent down to bite at his neck and trail his tongue along the warm skin.

‘Mm,’ Greg moaned.

Mycroft pulled back and Greg slid his jacket off and fumbled with his buttons. Mycroft was quicker and got undressed before grabbing the lube, pushing Greg back. He took off Greg’s shirt and trousers, stripping his underwear and letting them fall on the floor. His head tilted as he gazed at him, the familiar naked form making him shiver.

‘Come on!’ Greg groaned.

With a smile, Mycroft popped the lube open and squeezed it onto his fingers. He sat beside Greg and pushed a finger in.

Greg moaned and grabbed at Mycroft, bucking on his finger. Mycroft pushed another in and curled them to touch Greg’s prostate. The DI groaned again and bit his lips as Mycroft slid in and out slowly.

‘Fuck me now!’ Greg demanded.

Mycroft chuckled and pulled his fingers out. He rubbed them along his erection but had to add more lube. He dropped the bottle on the bedside table and pushed Greg back, spreading his legs.

But Greg wanted to be on top and pushed Mycroft onto his back. He climbed over and straddled his hips, his thighs pressing into Mycroft’s sides. Mycroft just smiled up at him as Greg grabbed his cock and slid down.

They both groaned and Mycroft pushed his head back into the bed. Greg began moving immediately, cursing loudly as he played with himself. Mycroft grabbed his cock and jerked Greg in time with his movements, his lube-slicked fingers making them slide over each other.

‘Fuck... me... My... croft...’ he groaned.

Mycroft pushed up harder, knowing Greg wouldn’t last long, not while drunk. He moved to hold Greg’s hips as the older man pulled himself up and down, Mycroft sliding almost all the way out before being jammed back in.

‘Greg... fuck...’ Mycroft moaned. ‘I love... you.’

‘Love... too,’ Greg groaned and came. He pulled at his cock and gasped, shuddering at the waves of pleasure that rolled through his body. He continued moving, not too drunk to remember that Mycroft needed to come too.

Mycroft pushed Greg aside and rolled him onto his back. Greg gasped as Mycroft grabbed his legs and pushed back in, thrusting wildly in an aim to follow his boyfriend’s climax.

‘Fuck... me...’ Greg groaned and opened his eyes to watch Mycroft. ‘Come for me, Mycroft.’

He did, loudly, and Greg panted with him as Mycroft slipped out. He dropped to the bed and moaned, rubbing at his face.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’

‘I should have stopped.’

‘Myc, stop it,’ Greg yawned. ‘Nothing to apologise for.’

Mycroft turned and watched as Greg began to nod off. He smiled and managed to pull himself up. By the time he’d cleaned them both up, Greg was asleep, snoring softly and drooling. Mycroft chuckled and pulled the blanket over both of them, wrapping his arms around Greg. Normally he liked to be held but tonight Mycroft was content to watch his partner sleep.

 

-oOo-

 

The loud groan and curse were the first indicators that Greg was going to be unpleasant that morning. Mycroft opened his eyes and watched as Greg sat up and rubbed at his mouth. His face was red, his hair stuck up, and his eyes were drooping. He really looked horrible.

‘Morning,’ Mycroft said brightly.

Greg wasn’t a morning person as it was but coupled with a lot of alcohol and rough sex, he was practically murderous.

‘Shut up.’

Mycroft laughed. ‘You shouldn’t have had so much to drink.’

Greg mumbled something that might have been, ‘Fuck you, Mycroft,’ and hauled himself into the shower.

Mycroft had dry toast, water, and Ibuprofen waiting. Greg downed the drugs with some water and kissed Mycroft on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’ Mycroft grinned as he fell into his seat, staring at the table.

The elder Holmes flicked through his paper and sipped his coffee. ‘Rough night?’

Greg groaned. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk that much.’

‘Why don’t you go back to sleep?’

‘Can’t, not when I have a hangover,’ Greg grumbled and chewed on the edge of his toast. ‘Won’t get any sleep tonight, either.’

Mycroft tutted. ‘Well that is what you get for having eight beers with Dr Watson.’

‘How’d you know it was eight?’

‘You told me that any more than ten and you become completely out of control,’ Mycroft said, ‘less than six and you’re fine. You were drunk, not tipsy, therefore eight.’ Greg just stared at him and he smiled. ‘Have some more toast.’

‘Don’t wanna.’

‘Gregory.’

‘You’re not eating.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You’re never hungry,’ Greg said and looked at Mycroft carefully. ‘Why do you eat so little?’ He waited for a big reaction, maybe Mycroft snapping that he ate plenty, but his boyfriend just stared at his paper.

‘I’m on a diet, Gregory.’

‘Why? You’re skinny.’

‘Because I am on a diet.’

Greg groaned. He badly wanted to press the matter but his head was pounding. And then his phone started ringing and he swore at it.

‘Call in sick,’ Mycroft said as Greg answered.

‘Lestrade.’ He paused and rubbed his eyes. ‘Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Right, thanks.’

He dropped the mobile onto the table and groaned. Mycroft smirked.

‘Shut up,’ Greg growled.

 

-oOo-

 

It was a simple thing that Greg managed to solve. He sat at his desk and sipped from his fourth cup of coffee. He’d drawn the blinds and was wearing sunglasses despite the fact it wasn’t very bright in his office. Greg had ordered everybody to leave him alone unless it was an emergency and he stared at his desk, wishing the paperwork would fill itself out.

He gasped loudly when the door to his office banged open. The sound shot through his already pounding head and he said, ‘Owe!’

‘Jesus!’ John Watson whined back.

Greg glared at him and demanded, ‘Why are you shouting?’

‘Why are _you_ shouting?’ John retorted and rubbed his face. He looked about as good as Greg felt. ‘Rough night?’ John asked, his voice quiet as he sat before Greg.

‘You have no idea,’ the DI moaned and thought about the previous night. He remembered most of it; acting like a complete fool in the car, wrapping himself around Mycroft, begging the younger man for sex. It had been very good sex but Greg was aching. ‘I convinced Mycroft I needed sex and... well, my arse hurts.’ The doctor chuckled and Greg continued, ‘And my head, my body, _everything._ ’

‘We probably shouldn’t drink like that,’ John said and leaned back in the seat. ‘I was dead at the surgery.’

‘Yeah, I got called in early this morning for a robbery,’ Greg said and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Finished it up nicely in a few hours, though now I’m stuck doing paper work.’ He glared down at the papers on his desk, like they were responsible for his pain. ‘My head hurts.’

‘Mine too,’ John agreed. ‘I thought I’d get out of the flat; Sherlock’s being all smug ’cause he told me not to drink so much... bloody genius.’

Greg smiled hesitantly. ‘John, never let me drink like that again.’

‘Oh, I won’t. You’ll start calling me Johnathan again.’

Greg chuckled, remembering his rambling at the pub when Mycroft had called. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes some more. ‘Sorry.’

John shrugged and they lapsed into silence; John staring at the desk, Greg yawning.

‘So,’ John said slowly, breaking the silence. ‘I told Sherlock I was ready.’

Greg looked up at him and asked, ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm,’ John murmured. ‘He said he was fine with it, as long as I didn’t want to do it drunk. He was very adamant that we do it while sober.’

‘Yer, probably a good idea,’ Greg sighed and sipped from the water beside his coffee. He needed more pain killers to take care of his throbbing head but he’d had enough. ‘I need drugs,’ he said.

John smiled and said, ‘You’re a cop.’

‘Legal, not legal, whatever,’ Greg grunted, ‘my head is killing me and I still need to finish up this paper work.’ He ran his hands through his hair, spiking it up even more. ‘It’s good, John, that you told him. Though probably not good that you were drunk while you did it.’

‘Mm, Sherlock said it was “a bit not good”. But he was sweet about it, just put me to bed.’

‘I wish Mycroft had just put me to bed,’ Greg groaned. ‘I threw him on the bed.’ Good sex, though.

John chuckled. ‘Wanna get some lunch?’

‘If I eat I’ll die.’

‘If you don’t eat you’ll die,’ John pointed out.

Greg sighed and stood slowly, wincing. ‘Yeah, alright. Just something dry, though. And not too long, I gotta get back to this bastard paper work.’

John let him walk past and bumped a knee into Greg’s arse when he reached the door.

‘Oi!’ Greg protested.

John grinned. ‘Oh, sorry, accident.’

Greg glared at him, muttering about karma as they left the office.

 

-oOo-

 

Mycroft Holmes nibbled at the sandwich A was forcing him to eat. He hadn’t had dinner the previous night because of Greg’s drunken need for sex and he’d skipped breakfast. He thought about Greg’s look as he’d eaten his toast; the careful way he waited for Mycroft’s reaction to the diet question. He’d come dangerously close to asking about it and Mycroft decided he’d have to hide it better. He didn’t want Gregory trying to “help”. There was nothing to worry about.

He flipped through the report on his desk and thought about Gregory some more, like he usually did. The sex was... it was better than Mycroft had ever dreamed. Not that he’d dreamed about sex _that_ much. It had always been something to not concern himself with; something other people did but he didn’t. Now, though... sex was just a way for him and Gregory to feel closer to each other.

He made some notes on the side of the file that should have the American President satisfied for another week before leaning back to sip his coffee. He wondered what it would feel like, to have Greg inside him. It would hurt, he knew that, but he also knew the pleasure would soon outweigh the pain. And Gregory would be nice about it; calming, understanding.

Mycroft smiled as he twirled his pen around. There was a knock on the door and he glanced up as A stepped in.

‘Sir, you’ve barely eaten your sandwich.’

He glanced down at the plate. It was a ham, cheese and tomato sandwich, brown bread, with a light layer of chilli sauce. He’d eaten a quarter of it and smiled at A. ‘I’m really not that hungry.’

But she glared at him, always worried about the “silly diets” he put himself on. ‘Sir, eat the entire sandwich or I’ll call Gregory.’

He looked at her carefully. ‘Why would that concern me?’ She raised an eyebrow and Mycroft sighed, picking up the rest of one half. He ate it quickly and started on the second half. A didn’t leave his office until he’d finished it completely and he tutted. Really, watching him eat a sandwich; how boring.

 

-oOo-

 

Mycroft’s thoughts seemed to revolve around sex that day as he delegated thirteen different meetings and broke up four fights. Politicians seemed to find throwing fists satisfactory but it just annoyed Mycroft.

He fell into his car at eleven and yawned, ready for a glass of wine and bed. He received a message from Greg as the car pulled away from his office building.

 

_Can’t sleep._

_Greg_

Mycroft smiled and dialled his boyfriend. ‘Really, Gregory, you know I don’t like messaging.’

Greg chuckled into the phone. ‘ _Well hello to you too._ ’

‘Hello.’

‘ _I can’t sleep._ ’

‘Yes, I gathered that from your message.’

‘ _Come over?_ ’ Greg asked. ‘ _If you’re not busy, that is. I want someone to watch Doctor Who with me._ ’

‘You know I don’t like the show, Gregory.’

‘ _But you love me_ ,’ Greg whined.

Mycroft smiled. ‘Very well, Gregory, I will watch Doctor Who with you.’

‘ _If you’re not busy,_ ’ Greg repeated.

‘I’m not,’ Mycroft assured him. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘ _Bye._ ’

 

-oOo-

 

Mycroft let himself in and Greg smiled at him from the couch. He grabbed them both a beer and sucked half of his down as he slid next to Greg.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi,’ Greg smiled and kissed him softly. ‘There’s takeaway in the fridge.’

Remembering his earlier thoughts, Mycroft got up and went back into the kitchen. He took one of the containers and asked, ‘Do you want any?’

‘No, I ate earlier.’

Mycroft sat down again and pulled the container open to find Satay prawns. He poked his fork in and brought a big mouthful to his lips. Greg smiled, seemingly satisfied, and snuggled into Mycroft as he ate. The Doctor Who title appeared on the TV, followed by the theme music, and Mycroft tilted his head.

‘Why do you like this show so much?’ he asked and took another big gulp of beer.

‘It’s interesting,’ Greg said. ‘The stories are original; the Doctor can do anything because he can travel through time _and_ space. No other show can do that. And the Doctor is a great character; brave, charismatic, brilliant, but flawed too. He’s humbled by his companions.’

‘If you say so,’ Mycroft said and chewed on a prawn.

‘I do. You’d like it if you gave it a chance, Mycroft.’

Mycroft just smiled.

 

-oOo-

 

Greg began nodding off around one am and Mycroft nudged him. ‘Bed time, Gregory.’

Greg yawned and said. ‘Suppose I should. Are you staying?’

‘I have a meeting at seven but I’ll stay until then.’

‘Brilliant,’ Greg grinned and pulled him up. Mycroft put the bottles in the bin and the takeaway back in the fridge as Greg turned the DVD and TV off. He pulled Mycroft into the bathroom and they brushed their teeth before hopping into bed. This time Mycroft snuggled into Greg and yawned. ‘Long day?’

‘Mm, too many meetings,’ Mycroft said. ‘I love just lying here with you; it’s very nice.’

‘My body is fantastic in many ways,’ Greg said and Mycroft chuckled. ‘You can cuddle it, admire it, slather it with honey.’

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft tutted.

‘Touch it, lick it,’ Greg continued and Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Have sex with it...’

Mycroft nibbled at his neck and Greg giggled.

‘Speaking of sex...’ he said.

‘Mm?’

‘I’m ready for you to... erm... well...’ he trailed off and Greg sighed.

‘When are you going to stop being embarrassed around me?’

‘Never,’ Mycroft huffed.

Greg smiled. ‘Are you saying you’re ready to let me have sex with you?’

‘We have sex already,’ Mycroft said.

‘You know what I mean,’ Greg said and shifted so he could look Mycroft in the eye. ‘Are you saying you’re ready to have me inside you?’

Mycroft nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and I... I want to experience it. I’m ready.’

‘Are you sure?’ Greg asked.

He nodded again and pushed his face back into Greg’s chest. ‘I really am.’

‘Okay,’ Greg said and wrapped his arms around Mycroft. ‘Tomorrow night, if we’re both free, I’ll cook a romantic dinner and we can try. If you feel at all uncomfortable we can stop.’

‘You’re going to cook?’ Mycroft asked.

‘I’m a fabulous cook, Mr Holmes,’ Greg said.

Mycroft chuckled.

 

-oOo-

 

Thanks mostly to Anthea, or A, or whatever she was calling herself that day, both Greg and Mycroft would be free from seven pm. Greg got home at five and dumped the groceries on his kitchen counter.

He rummaged about for the necessary pots and pans before washing his hands. He crumbed the chicken first and dropped it into the oil as he cut up the vegetables. It was followed by a light salad with vinegar, salt and pepper.

Once the chicken was done he drained it and placed it on two plates. He dropped the fresh vegetables onto his, the cooked ones onto Mycroft’s, followed by a potato each cut open with fat-free butter. He was tossing the salad when there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ Greg called and Mycroft stepped into the flat. He smiled and shed his coat, pulling off his jacket as he approached Greg. ‘Hi.’

‘Hello,’ Mycroft smiled and leaned over to kiss him. He draped his jacket over one of the stools and pulled off his tie and waistcoat. ‘Do you need any help?’

‘No, I’m doing everything. You have some wine and sit down.’

‘You bought wine?’

‘I’m not completely hopeless, Mycroft,’ Greg tutted and spooned salad into two bowls.

Mycroft smiled as he uncorked the wine and poured a glass. ‘You aren’t in any way hopeless, Gregory. Are you having some?’

‘Please,’ Greg said and wiped his hands on a tea towel. He took the wine Mycroft offered him and went to grab cutlery.

They sat at right angles and smiled over their dinner. Mycroft ate everything, much to Greg’s pleasure, and they both leaned back when they finished.

‘That was marvellous, Gregory,’ Mycroft said and sipped his wine. ‘You truly are a good cook.’

‘I told you so,’ Greg smiled. He leaned forward and kissed Mycroft slowly. ‘Want to watch a DVD?’

‘Sounds lovely,’ Mycroft said and let Greg drag him into the living room. He put on some romantic comedy that Mycroft didn’t pay attention to. He was content to let Greg rest his head on his chest as he played with the DI’s hair.

Much later Greg stood and turned everything off. He flicked the lights off and smiled at Mycroft. ‘Ready?’

Mycroft swallowed but nodded and Greg took him into his bedroom. They sat on the edge of the bed and Greg kissed him softly as he pulled at Mycroft’s shirt, touching every inch of exposed skin. Mycroft stood and slipped from his shoes, socks and trousers, climbing back onto the bed after Greg did the same.

They kissed softly for a few minutes, just enjoying each other, until Greg pulled back. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Absolutely.’ Greg bit his lip and Mycroft took his chin, holding it firmly. ‘Gregory, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t. I trust you with my life, with everything. I love you more than life itself. If I grow uncomfortable in any way I will let you know.’

‘Promise?’ Greg asked.

‘I promise.’ He kissed Greg softly and darted his tongue along Greg’s bottom lip. It grew more heated and suddenly they were both slipping from their underwear, pulling each other close.

Greg’s lips were soft, his entire body was too. Mycroft just spent some time enjoying the now familiar lips, the skilful tongue that darted across his own mouth or plunged into him. Greg was an excellent kisser and Mycroft always enjoyed it.

Greg’s hands were trailing across his body, tracing patterns that only he could see. He circled Mycroft’s lower back, found one of his ticklish spots. Mycroft smiled against Greg’s mouth and Greg continued to rub calloused hands across his skin.

The friction between their crotches was getting heated. Mycroft marvelled at the way Greg’s skin could make him feel so hot, so aroused. It was as though someone were holding a bright candle against his skin; he tingled, ached, burned for more contact, more Greg.

Mycroft moved to nibble at Greg’s jaw, enjoying the light stubble Greg always sported. It felt delicious beneath his lips, his tongue, as he kissed down to his ear.

He moved a hand down Greg’s arm, the skin soft and warm to the touch. Greg shivered beneath him as Mycroft moved down his ribs, his stomach, to grip his thigh tightly and circle his skin. Greg had his eyes closed and was moaning very softly, as though worried he’d scare Mycroft off.

The younger man had no intentions of going anywhere, not now, not ever. It hit him like an electric shock; he wanted to move in with Greg, to marry him, to mark him as his own. He wanted to have kids with Greg and grow old with him. This man, he was everything to Mycroft now. He would do anything, absolutely _anything_ to ensure that Greg was happy and healthy, even if that meant his own unhappiness.

Mycroft gripped him tightly and pulled him close, his lips suddenly crushing against Greg’s. Greg was startled but went with it, too used to Mycroft’s bruising kisses and strong grip. He was completely at ease with this man, the politician he loved. Greg would go to hell for Mycroft, no matter what the cost.

Mycroft pulled back and looked at Greg carefully, never wanting to look away. He drank in Greg’s spiky greying hair, his rounded face and tanned skin, his dark brown eyes that only held adoration and love. He looked down further, taking in the strong and broad shoulders, the fit chest and stomach, the dark chest hair that trailed down his stomach to his throbbing erection, an erection Mycroft had caused. Greg’s firm and muscular thighs were pressed up against Mycroft’s, his ankles crossed where he was lying. There was nothing Mycroft hated about the man; he loved each and every part of him, each and every spot, curve and scar. If it was ever taken away from him he’d simply die.

Greg never tired of the sight of the elder Holmes either. He was pale and very freckled, dark spots littering his shoulders and arms. His chest hair was soft under Greg’s fingers and it thinned as it reached his stomach. His pubic hair was ginger in the right light, like rust, and Greg absolutely loved it. He loved everything about Mycroft; his thin torso, his strong legs, his hands, his arms, his eyes, _everything._

‘Mycroft?’ Greg said and snapped from his own thoughts. He ran a hand along Mycroft’s cheek, the skin smooth beneath his fingers.

‘I’m ready,’ Mycroft said firmly and looked back up at Greg.

‘Okay,’ Greg nodded. He shifted and turned to pull open the top draw of his dresser. He grabbed a condom and the bottle of lube, sitting before Mycroft.

Mycroft watched him carefully as Greg opened the foil and rolled the rubber over his erection. He slathered his fingers with lube and looked up at Mycroft.

‘How do you want me?’

‘On your hands and knees, it’ll be easier,’ Greg said.

Mycroft nodded and moved to do as Greg asked. Greg pushed one of his pillows under Mycroft’s head.

‘I’m going to prepare you, okay?’ Greg said from behind him. ‘It’ll feel a little strange but it’ll help.’

‘I trust you,’ Mycroft said.

Greg touched Mycroft’s back and moved down slowly, following the curve of his arse. Mycroft shivered slightly as Greg’s fingers slipped between his cheeks. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said.

Greg pushed his index finger in very slowly, feeling Mycroft flinch and tense.

‘Mycroft, you have to relax. This will hurt a lot less if you do.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise, there’s no need,’ Greg said.

Mycroft bit his lip and forced himself to relax as Greg’s finger slid in to the knuckle. It wasn’t too bad but Greg’s finger was nothing compared to his erection. Mycroft closed his eyes and Greg pulled back out before going back in.

He continued for a few seconds before saying, ‘I’m going to put another finger in, is that okay?’

‘Yes.’

Greg did and it hurt a little but it was nothing Mycroft couldn’t handle. It was an odd sensation, not unpleasant, just something Mycroft wasn’t used to. Greg continued for a minute, allowing Mycroft to get used to it.

‘Is it okay?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said.

‘I’m going to put another finger in, to stretch you, alright?’

‘Yes.’

He did and Mycroft gasped a little. It hurt more now and Mycroft was worried; what if he couldn’t handle Greg’s cock? He very badly wanted to feel what Greg was like, what Greg fucking him felt like. Now he was worried that if he didn’t get past it the first time he never would.

‘Mycroft, are you okay?’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t sound okay.’

‘I’m... fine,’ he managed.

‘Mycroft–’

‘I knew it would hurt a little,’ Mycroft said, ‘but I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to touch your prostate, alright?’

‘Okay.’

Greg’s fingers curled inside him and suddenly a feeling Mycroft had never experienced before shot through his body. It was... Mycroft couldn’t explain it. It was so good, he just wanted to feel it again and again. He wanted Greg to fuck him hard so he could come to that feeling.

‘Mycroft?’

‘Good,’ he said.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, do it again, please,’ Mycroft begged.

Greg chuckled behind him and slid his fingers out. Mycroft groaned a little as he slipped back in and touched his prostate again.

‘God,’ Mycroft moaned. ‘I... I like that.’

‘I thought you would.’

‘Gregory?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m ready, please.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

Greg removed his fingers and moved to kneel behind Mycroft. He slicked himself up and dropped the lube bottle before taking Mycroft’s hips. ‘It’s going to hurt, Mycroft.’

‘I know.’

‘Tell me if you want to stop, okay?’

‘I will.’

Greg grabbed his cock and manoeuvred himself to Mycroft’s entrance. He pushed the head of his cock in and Mycroft shivered before him. He pushed in slowly and Mycroft winced, burying his face in the pillow beneath his head. It was a sharp pain, but at the same time dull, revibrating through the lower half of his body as Greg entered him completely.

‘Mycroft, are you okay?’

‘Mm,’ he managed.

‘Mycroft, please.’

‘F-fine.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft admitted.

‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘N-no,’ Mycroft said. ‘You can move.’

Greg did, very slowly, and slid halfway out of Mycroft. He pushed back in and Mycroft pulled away slightly, his arse constricting around Greg as his muscles grew used to the invasion.

Greg continued these short movements at first, controlling himself completely. While he really wanted to fuck Mycroft hard he remembered what his first time had been like and wanted this to be as painless as he could make it.

Mycroft was grunting and whimpering, biting at the pillow beneath his head. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever felt and with every thrust it was getting easier, better. But it was still something he’d never experienced before and his body was taking its sweet time getting used to it.

Greg pulled all the way out and slid back in slowly. He grazed against Mycroft’s prostate and a sharp stab of pleasure shot through Mycroft’s body.

‘Oh,’ Mycroft gasped.

‘What?’

‘I like that.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, please do that again.’

Greg chuckled. Only Mycroft Holmes could be that polite while getting fucked. Greg did it again and Mycroft moaned louder, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘Again.’

Greg complied and felt Mycroft slowly begin to relax, to enjoy the thrusts. He moaned again and pushed himself back. Greg began moving faster, gripping Mycroft’s hips tightly. Mycroft’s face was red, his lips puffy from kissing and biting, and he rubbed sweat from his eyes with one hand.

‘Good?’ Greg asked.

‘Mm...yes...’ Mycroft said through moans and pants. ‘Harder, please.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, please,’ Mycroft practically begged.

With a chuckle, Greg began to relinquish a little of his control. He felt his own pleasure cascade through his body as Mycroft whimpered beneath him, now in joy instead of pain. He ran his eyes over Mycroft’s pale back, his freckled shoulders, and watched as his boyfriend bit at his lips and grunted.

Greg rubbed a hand along Mycroft’s back and tugged the taller man into him, making Mycroft gasp as Greg entered him deeper than before.

‘That... God... fuck,’ Mycroft mumbled and grabbed his own cock. He began stroking his erection and moaning loudly. The pleasure was far outweighing the pain now and Mycroft just wanted it to go forever. He wanted Greg to stay there all day every day and fuck him over and over again.

Greg was giving over to his own needs and thrust harder and faster, loving the noises Mycroft was making. He’d missed this; fucking another man. The heat, the tightness, the complete need to fill the man beneath him. But it was so much better with Mycroft.

Mycroft shuddered beneath him and Greg opened his eyes, realising his boyfriend had come. He was pulling at himself as he emptied liquid onto the sheets, moaning and thrusting himself back.

It was unlike his other orgasms; the ones he’d had while fucking Greg. This one was from being prodded, being fucked, and also from tugging his own cock. It tingled all along his body and left him gasping for air as his muscles ached and burned.

Greg moved faster and harder, not wanting to draw out his own pleasure. An orgasm built and built and built until Greg was coming too, spilling himself into Mycroft with a whimper. He moaned and stroked Mycroft’s arse, his legs, his back, waiting until he went limp before pulling out.

Knowing how Mycroft felt about hygiene, he grabbed a towel and wet it before coming back to clean them both up. He peeled the condom off and dropped it onto the dresser.

Mycroft got up groggily and winced slightly as Greg pulled the sheets off the bed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘A little sore,’ Mycroft admitted while Greg grabbed some fresh sheets. ‘But it was good.’

‘Really?’

Mycroft nodded and climbed back into bed. He pulled the pillows across the mattress and rested his head against them. Greg moved to wrap his arms around Mycroft and burry his head in his neck.

‘I’m sorry it hurt.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Mycroft said and played with the sheets. Greg kissed at his neck and pulled Mycroft closer, his warm and naked front pressing into Mycroft’s back. ‘It was good, believe me.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘We’ll definitely be doing that again,’ Mycroft said.

Greg laughed. ‘Sex fiend.’

‘I just might be.’

He smiled and closed his eyes, Mycroft’s warm body making him drowsy.

‘Was it good... for you?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Most definitely,’ Greg replied.

‘Good,’ Mycroft said, ‘I’m glad.’ Greg smiled and Mycroft turned his head to kiss him softly. ‘Thank you for being so gentle.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I love you.’

‘And I will always, _always_ love you, Mycroft Holmes.’

Mycroft smiled and shifted, sleep pulling at his eyes. He fell asleep to Greg’s soft breathing.

 

-oOo-

 

It was cold and the sky grey when Greg woke. He yawned and rolled over, searching for Mycroft. The bed was cold and Greg groaned, wondering if his boyfriend had slipped away to work. But normally he woke Greg as he got dressed.

Greg sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around. His alarm said it was six and Greg rolled out of bed, looking around. Mycroft’s clothes were still in a heap on the floor so Greg grabbed his dressing ground and went looking for him.

His flat was small and it only took a minute to locate the man. He was sitting on the couch sipping coffee and flicking through the morning paper. Greg snuck up behind him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

‘Morning,’ Mycroft smiled.

‘Good morning, lover,’ Greg said and Mycroft chuckled. ‘Any coffee left?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said and watched as his partner went into the kitchen. He came back with a black coffee and Mycroft dropped the paper, opening his arms to let Greg cuddle him. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well,’ Greg said, ‘how about you?’

‘Mm,’ Mycroft said and sipped his coffee.

‘Are you okay?’

‘A little sore if I move a certain way,’ Mycroft said. ‘But other than that, fabulous.’

‘So it was okay?’ Greg asked. ‘I didn’t ruin our relationship?’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘You were wonderful, Gregory, thank you. I’m glad you were the first person to do that.’

Greg smiled and leaned up to kiss him. ‘Good.’

Mycroft’s Blackberry buzzed and Greg groaned. Mycroft smiled and answered, ‘Holmes.’ He paused and slowly a smirk spread across his handsome face. ‘Really? Thank you, Aurelia.’ He paused again. ‘Oh, it’s Aaron today. How very ordinary, I hope you change it soon.’ Greg rolled his eyes as Mycroft thanked “Aaron” and hung up.

‘Aaron?’

‘Mm, she does like the A names,’ Mycroft said pleasantly. He pulled himself up and Greg groaned.

‘Work?’

‘Not until nine,’ Mycroft said. ‘Come on, we’re going out for breakfast.’

‘What? You don’t usually eat breakfast.’

‘Today I do,’ Mycroft said and dragged Greg up.

 

-oOo-

 

Greg didn’t think they were at Baker Street for breakfast. He turned to glare at Mycroft. ‘You’re just here to tease Sherlock about something.’

His boyfriend just smiled and tapped on the door. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

‘What did he do that’s got you in such a good mood?’ Greg asked.

A yawning Mrs Hudson opened the door and let them in. Greg grabbed Mycroft as the elder Holmes tapped at the door.

‘Mycroft, why do you and Sherlock always have to fight?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘It’s our way of showing love.’ Nobody answered the door and Mycroft grinned, hearing the whispered voice of his brother. ‘I’m not going away, Sherlock.’ Greg groaned and shook his head. ‘Whispering will not work, either.’

There were a few bumps and curses before the door was opened. Sherlock glared at his brother as he finished doing up his shirt.

‘Mycroft, annoying as usual.’

Mycroft just smiled politely and stepped into the flat. Greg considered ducking back outside for a cigarette but after a second followed his boyfriend in. He smiled hesitantly and stayed by the door. He’d definitely need a cigarette after this.

‘Why are you here?’ Sherlock demanded as Mycroft slipped into John’s chair. John was standing by the windows and Mycroft smiled at him before turning to Sherlock.

‘Do I need a reason to visit my brother?’

Greg sighed as Sherlock said, ‘Yes. If you don’t have one, go away.’

Clearly he and John had been having sex, or at least basking in the afterglow of sex, as there was blankets rolled up in the corner and both looked a little exhausted.

‘I came to have breakfast,’ Mycroft said. ‘See, that’s a reason.’

Greg didn’t understand why they were there until he looked at John carefully. He was standing a certain way and winced slightly as he moved from one foot to another. _Oh._

‘That’s not a good reason, Mycroft,’ Sherlock growled.

Mycroft just smirked. ‘You said it had to be a reason, not a good one.’

Mycroft really was as childish as his brother, Greg thought. He’d dragged Greg all the way over to 221B to tease his brother about the fact that he’d fucked John Watson. Really, what the hell was wrong with them? Was this really their way of showing love?

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, arms folded, glaring at his brother. Mycroft just smiled.

John looked at Greg and asked, ‘Er, tea?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Greg sighed. He’d deal with Mycroft later.

As soon as they went into the kitchen Mycroft said, ‘Congratulations, brother.’

‘Uh huh,’ Sherlock said. ‘It seems you and Lestrade move faster than me and John.’

Mycroft shrugged. ‘Gregory is a fabulous man.’

‘So you two are happy together?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Very,’ Mycroft said and smiled. ‘And you and John?’

‘He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

Mycroft nodded and tapped his umbrella on the floor. ‘I’m very happy for you, Sherlock. I hope you can see that.’

‘I do, brother,’ Sherlock said and smiled. ‘I’m happy for you too.’

‘They’ve changed us,’ Mycroft commented and Sherlock nodded. ‘Can you imagine us talking like this a few months ago?’

‘No, I would have just kicked you,’ Sherlock mused.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Yes, you were always dramatic, Sherlock.’

‘Me?’ Sherlock gaped. ‘You’re one to talk.’

They shared smiles that were quickly wiped away when Greg and John came back in. John handed Mycroft his cup and Mycroft smiled.

‘You’ve ruined a perfectly good morning, Mycroft,’ Sherlock said, diving straight back into bickering with his sibling. Because God forbid their boyfriends should see the two getting along.

Mycroft sighed, ‘Don’t be so dramatic, Sherlock.’

‘Me?’ Sherlock said again and Mycroft nearly laughed. ‘I’m not the one who kidnaps people and gets all fancy with CCTV cameras.’

Mycroft’s smile widened. ‘That’s not being dramatic, Sherlock. That is simply showing a person what I am capable of. I find that the cloak-and-dagger routine instils people with the sensible feelings of fear and respect.’ He looked at John, who forced himself to smile. ‘See?’ Mycroft said to his brother.

‘John is just being polite,’ Sherlock huffed.

‘Exactly,’ Mycroft smirked and sipped his tea. The fact that John was forcing himself to be polite, despite the fact that Mycroft had ruined his morning, only backed up Mycroft’s words.

John fell to sit beside Sherlock and Greg sat on the arm rest beside Mycroft. Mycroft could feel his warmth and wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around Greg and pull him in close for a very hot kiss. But he didn’t exactly want to do that in front of Sherlock or John.

Greg smiled down at him as Sherlock and John whispered to each other. Mycroft could tell Greg was going to shout at him for barging into 221B so early. But Mycroft had had to see Sherlock himself; to see if Sherlock was still happy with John. He no longer had cameras or listening devices inside the flat and needed to know that Sherlock and John were okay.

‘So, how are you two doing?’ Mycroft asked, turning away from Greg to look at his brother and the good doctor.

‘We’re fine, Mycroft,’ Sherlock glared, ‘and we’d be better if you weren’t here.’

Greg cleared his throat and said, ‘Mycroft, maybe we should go.’

‘Whatever for?’ Mycroft asked, as though he was genuinely curious as to how his presence could be anything but wonderful.

‘Well, they’re busy,’ Greg said and nodded at Sherlock and John.

‘I’m sure they’re not,’ Mycroft answered.

‘Well...’ Greg said slowly and placed his cup on the coffee table. He bent down to whisper in Mycroft’s ear. ‘We could go back to mine and have me fuck you very, very hard.’

Mycroft flushed red and cleared his throat, thoughts of Greg fucking him again flooding his mind. He stood quickly and put his cup down, afraid he might keel over in excitement. Surely it was unnatural to feel this turned on from a few words?

‘Gregory and I will be taking our leave,’ he said quickly. John grinned and Sherlock smirked but Mycroft didn’t care. He turned and followed Greg from the flat, missing the “ _thank you_ ” John mouthed at the DI.

But Mycroft couldn’t leave without one last stab at his brother. He paused at the door and Greg looked at him. ‘It may just be my imagination,’ he said slowly, ‘but does anybody else smell roses?’ John blushed and Sherlock glared. Mycroft just smirked and said, ‘Have a lovely morning,’ as Greg grabbed him and dragged him forcefully from the flat.

‘Mycroft, really,’ he groaned and went downstairs.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mycroft said but he didn’t look it. He grabbed Greg and wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. ‘Do you hate me?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

Greg smiled and said, ‘I’m going to have to punish you for that, Mr Holmes.’

‘Really?’ Mycroft smiled and Greg nodded. ‘And what kind of punishment would that be?’

Greg turned to face him and leaned in very close, his breath tickling Mycroft’s ear. ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week. And I’m going to tease you for hours and make sure you don’t come until I’m good and ready.’

Mycroft swallowed as Greg pulled back and felt blood colour his cheeks. ‘Is that so?’ he asked and Greg nodded. ‘We both have work.’

‘Not this morning we don’t.’

Mycroft said, ‘You realise that if I didn’t love you I’d have you exiled from Britain immediately.’

Greg just grinned and said, ‘Yeah, I know. But you do.’

Mycroft smiled and drew Greg in closely. ‘Yes,’ he said and kissed his boyfriend softly. ‘I really do.’


End file.
